


(You've Gotta) Taste the Rain

by orpheous87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coffee, Community: hp_drizzle, Flirting, Getting Together, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Rain, Summer, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25903882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheous87/pseuds/orpheous87
Summary: Harry can't take the rat race anymore and quits Auror training just before graduation. He hopes a move to the country will bring him what he's looking for. He doesn't factor in a wandering neighbour who turns out to be very familiar. As the rain continues to pour, things get heated.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 201
Collections: HP Drizzle Fest 2020





	(You've Gotta) Taste the Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Im_a_bird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_bird/gifts).



> Thank you to L for betaing and helping me polish this up.   
> To Im_a_bird, I had a lot of fun writing this, your prompt spoke to me the moment I saw it, so I hope you enjoy it!

Harry threw his cloak over the back of a chair before slumping onto the sofa. Ron followed him into the room and sat down with a groan. 

“I thought this would get easier the closer we got to graduation,” Ron sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

“Mm,” Harry grunted in reply, massaging his left bicep. “Probably a stupid thing to think really. We need to be at the top of our game if we have any hope of passing.” 

“Ah, I know,” Ron said, rolling his neck now. “At least we’re almost there. Fancy a cuppa?” 

“Definitely,” Harry nodded. “I’ll make it. Biscuit?” 

“Obviously,” Ron replied. 

Harry shook his head slightly and stood up again, heading into the kitchen. He switched the kettle on and moved to get two mugs. He’d been living in this flat for the last three years. Although he was the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to move in. The house still needed a lot of work to make it livable, and once he’d started Auror training, Harry had known he wouldn’t have the time to devote to it. So, he’d found a small two-bedroomed flat to rent in the centre of London that was much more modern and had full electricity. So far he’d managed not to cause a power cut in the building due to magical interference, but it was always in the back of his mind that it was a possibility. 

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of the kettle boiling and switching off. He made two cups of strong tea, using tea bags rather than leaves, and added the milk and sugar just as he and Ron liked it. Stirring the tea, Harry chewed on his lip. He hadn’t told Ron, but he’d been wondering if being an Auror was really for him. After seeing so many of his former classmates settling down into more sedate jobs, he’d started to become envious. Sure, he’d enjoyed the training at first, but as they’d progressed he’d found himself beginning to resent it all. He longed for a day where he could just laze around the house, doing nothing, but all his free time at the moment was taken up by studying. 

“How long are you going to be with that tea, mate?” 

Harry jumped slightly at Ron’s shout. “Sorry, coming,” he called back, putting the spoon into the dishwasher and heading back into the lounge with both mugs. “Here.” 

“I thought you’d gone to China for it,” Ron quipped, giving Harry a cheeky grin as he took his mug. 

“Oh, ha, ha,” Harry muttered, sitting back down. “I was just… thinking, that’s all.” 

“About?” Ron asked, before blowing lightly on his mug to cool the scalding tea before he took a sip. 

“Just stuff,” Harry said, shrugging. “Nothing really.” 

“It must have been a pretty big nothing to keep you distracted for that long,” Ron replied, taking another sip. “And to make you forget the biscuits…” 

“Oh, bugger,” Harry said, looking around in surprise. “I’ll go and get them, sorry.” 

Ron snorted with laughter. 

Harry put his mug down beside the sofa and headed back into the kitchen to grab the packet of chocolate Digestives he’d left sitting on the side. On his return to the living room, he threw the biscuits to Ron and dropped back onto the sofa.

“So, come on, what were you thinking about?” Ron asked, helping himself to two biscuits from the packet and passing it back to Harry. “A lady? A man?”

“No, nothing like that,” Harry said with a snort. 

“Then what?” Ron persisted. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

“I’m just… I’m having second thoughts about all of this,” Harry replied carefully, leaning forward to pick his mug up again.

“All of what?” Ron asked, shoving the last of his biscuit into his mouth.

Harry paused, studying the contents of his mug for a moment. “Being an Auror.”

Ron coughed, choking on the mouthful of tea he’d just taken. “What?” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I was all for it right out of the battle,” Harry said. “But, I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem as appealing anymore. I don’t want to have to watch my back all the time. I’ve done that for the last ten years, well, longer anyway. I had to watch my back with Dudley around too. I just want to do something… I don’t know, _boring_.” 

“Wow,” Ron said, conjuring a towel and mopping his shirt. “I didn’t expect you to say that. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I think I am. I’ve just… had enough. I don’t think I want to continue with the program.” 

Ron looked at him with wide eyes. “Hang on, hang on. You’re going to give up?” 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Harry said. “But I don’t _think_ I want to finish it. I’m going to think about it, though.” 

“You’ve only got a couple of weeks until we graduate and become fully-fledged Aurors,” Ron said. “Wouldn’t you be better off graduating and then deciding?” 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if it would be better to jack it in before then.” 

“But that’ll be three years you’ve wasted,” Ron said. “Don’t you want to have something to show for it?” 

“Right now? Not really,” Harry said with a sigh. “That session today was the last straw. I’m just so tired of it, Ron.” 

Ron blinked, his mouth working wordlessly. 

“I’m going to speak to Kingsley tomorrow,” Harry said quietly. “Talk it over with him.” 

Ron nodded. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said. “I know I won’t be able to change your mind, just… promise me you’ll think it over properly?”

Harry nodded. “I will don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to do something I regret, either way.” 

“Good. And if Hermione asks, I at least tried to talk you out of it, okay?” Ron replied. 

Harry laughed. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “Don’t worry; I’ll let her know that this is all my own doing.” 

“Thanks,” Ron said, looking relieved. “I’d better get going. Hermione will be wondering where I am.” 

Harry nodded again. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Whatever happens with Kingsley.” 

Ron nodded too. “Make sure of it. ‘Night, mate.” 

“Goodnight,” Harry said, waving a hand as he drained his mug. He collected Ron’s mug and the packet of biscuits and took them back into the kitchen. He put both mugs into the dishwasher and the biscuits back into the cupboard. Opening the fridge, he scanned the shelves, frowning. Then he shut the fridge and opened the freezer, looking into each drawer before sighing. “Takeaway,” he muttered, closing the freezer door again. 

He opened the drawer he kept the takeaway menus in and rifled through them, pulling out the menu for his favourite Chinese. Scanning it, he quickly made up his mind and grabbed the phone to place his order. 

A couple of hours later, Harry woke up on the sofa. Groaning, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He could smell the remains of the Chinese takeaway he’d polished off before falling asleep, and he had to admit, it still smelled good. He got up and cleared his plate away, finally switching the dishwasher on before making his way to the bedroom. ‘An early night is probably a good idea,’ he thought.

***

“I have to say, Harry, when you said you were giving up the training program, I didn’t expect this,” Hermione said as she gazed out of the window.

“I just thought a brand new start somewhere new might be what I need,” Harry said, joining her at the window. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

“It really is,” Hermione nodded, taking in the expanse of green that seemed to stretch for miles. “Have you got any neighbours?” 

“Nope,” Harry said grinning. “That’s possibly the best thing. I think I need some time to myself, you know?” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Going from such a busy life to, well, complete solitude?” Hermione asked doubtfully. 

“I’ll make sure I stay in touch,” Harry said, slipping his arm around her and giving her a light squeeze. “I won’t cut myself off completely, I promise.” 

“Good,” Hermione said. “I understand that you need some time to process things, but cutting yourself off would be a terrible idea.” 

“I know,” Harry said. “I know. I’ll–” 

“Harry?” Hermione asked with a frown. Turning to look out of the window again, she squinted at a figure that had appeared in the distance. “Is that–?” 

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the figure. “No, it can’t be.” 

“It really looks like…” Hermione said, frowning again. 

“Don’t say it. It’s not him,” Harry said warningly. “How could it be?”

“Who else do you know with hair that colour?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice. 

“Why would he be here?” Harry asked, a slight whining tone appearing in his voice. “He’s supposed to be in London.” 

“He might just be visiting,” Hermione suggested. “Isn’t Malfoy Manor somewhere near here?” 

Harry shook his head again. “No, it’s miles away,” he said. “I’m sure it is.” 

“Well… then I don’t know,” Hermione said. “But it certainly looks like Malfoy.” 

Harry frowned. “Great,” he muttered. “Where’s Ron anyway? I thought he’d want to see my new house.” 

“He’s still in training,” Hermione said. “He couldn’t come today, but he did say he’d try and come over at the weekend if that’s alright?” 

“Yeah, of course it is,” Harry replied, holding back a sigh. “I’ll have settled in properly by then. You can both come over for dinner.”

Hermione smiled. “That would be nice,” she said. “You’ll be able to tell us all about this place.”

“Hopefully,” Harry grinned, forgetting, momentarily, about the figure that definitely _wasn’t_ Draco Malfoy. “If the weather is nice, we could eat out in the garden.”

“Ooh, yes,” Hermione said, her eyes lighting up. “The garden is beautiful; it would be lovely to eat out there.” 

“Well, we’ll see on Saturday,” Harry said, nodding. “Didn’t you say you were due in the office at two?” 

Hermione looked at her watch and gave a small gasp. “Yes! Sorry, Harry, but I’m going to have to go. Will you be alright?” 

Harry nodded. “Of course I will,” he said. “I’ve got my wand. I’ll sort everything in no time.” 

“Alright,” Hermione replied, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you Saturday.” 

“See you,” Harry said with a smile, watching as she did a quick turn and disappeared with a pop. Then, with a contented sigh, he turned to gaze around the room. It was light and airy, decorated in a pale yellow colour with muted orange woodwork, and if Harry was honest, the colour was partly what had attracted him to this particular house. It was so different from the flat he’d been renting. He hadn’t been allowed to change any of the decor there, and now he’d found this house, he realised he didn’t _want_ to change the decor here. Just looking at the walls made him feel relaxed and, after all, that was the point of moving out of London. 

He’d brought his furniture from the flat, of course, and had already got it laid out as he wanted. Now, all he needed to do was change it to match the new decor. Pointing his wand at the big, squashy sofa, he muttered the spell he knew would see the grey fabric change itself to a bright terracotta which matched the sunny appearance of the room perfectly. He continued with the two armchairs and footstool, smiling as the room began to look a little more like home. He moved around the ground floor of the house, making sure everything was just right. He avoided looking out of the window again. Just in case. 

Then, he moved upstairs and considered the colour scheme of the bedroom. It was very different from the colours in the rest of the house, decorated in muted greys, but Harry found he didn’t mind it. It brought a welcome sense of calm to the room, which he thought would probably be very conducive to getting a good night’s sleep. He decided to leave things the way they were in that room, short of rearranging the furniture slightly. He knew that the window was east facing and he wanted to be able to feel the sun on his face when he woke up. 

He spent the remainder of the afternoon pottering about the house, unpacking the rest of his belongings. Despite having lived in a flat for the last three years, he found he had enough things to fill a whole house easily. As the sun was beginning to set, Harry glanced out of the window again, spotting that the person (who definitely wasn’t Draco Malfoy) was still wandering around in what must be the neighbouring grounds. Pausing at the window, Harry watched him for a moment. He supposed that he couldn’t really complain about someone just walking around _near_ his house. When the person disappeared from view, Harry drew the curtains shut and headed for bed. With it being summer, the sun had set quite late, and he realised that moving house was quite tiring.

***

The next morning, Harry woke with the first rays of the sun, and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d slept incredibly well, and he really didn’t want to get out of bed, but needs must, and he needed the toilet.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on the patio with a fresh cup of coffee, enjoying the bird song. He tucked his legs up, crossing them as he sat and tried to identify the different kinds of birds that he could hear. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a movement caught his attention. The person he’d seen yesterday was out walking again, only this time he was approaching Harry’s garden gate, and there was no mistaking the fact that it was definitely Draco Malfoy.

Harry stifled a groan, wondering if Malfoy could see him or if he had time to duck back inside. 

“Good–” Draco began as he reached the gate, pausing as he realised who his new neighbour was. “Oh.” 

“Good morning, Malfoy,” Harry said reluctantly, watching Draco apprehensively. “What, er, what are you doing here?” 

Draco gave himself a small shake. “I live across the fields,” he said. “I saw someone moving in yesterday and thought I’d introduce myself. I didn’t realise it was you.” 

Harry considered this and gave a slight nod.

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a few more minutes. 

Then– “Would you like some coffee?” 

Draco blinked. “That would be nice, thank you,” he said, taking the invitation as permission to enter the garden. He pushed the gate open and headed up the path to join Harry. 

“Two seconds,” Harry said, getting up and going back into the kitchen to pour a second cup of coffee. 

Draco gazed around at the garden as he waited. 

“Here you go,” Harry said as he returned, holding the cup out to Draco, who took it almost shyly. 

“Thank you,” he said, immediately lifting the cup and taking a sip. “What made you move here?”

Harry shrugged. “I could ask the same of you,” he said. “I thought you were in London.” 

“I haven’t been in London for years,” Draco replied. “I occasionally go in for meetings. But I couldn’t live there.” 

Harry nodded in understanding. “I’ve started feeling like that,” he said. “I wasn’t happy there.” 

“This is a nice house,” Draco said. “I almost bought this one.” 

“What changed your mind?” Harry asked, immediately on guard. He already loved the house and hoped there was nothing wrong with it.

“I just decided I like the other one a little bit more,” Draco replied. “The view is slightly different.”

“Oh,” Harry said, unsure how to answer. “That’s nice.” 

Draco nodded. “Yes, it is,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee. 

They lapsed into silence, occasionally sipping from their cups as the sun continued to rise and the bird song rose in a crescendo before quietening down again. 

Soon, Draco finished his cup and stood up. “I should leave you to it,” he said. “Thank you for the coffee.” 

“Oh, er, no problem,” Harry said, standing up too, though he wasn’t really sure why. “Thank you for coming by.” 

Draco nodded once and headed back down the garden path and out of the gate. 

Harry watched him go until he’d disappeared around the corner at the bottom of the road. Then he blinked, shook his head and picked up both cups to take them inside. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. As he began to fill the sink with hot water, he pondered the appearance of Draco Malfoy at his gate. Considering they’d never got along at school, the half-hour they’d just spent together was certainly not unpleasant. It wasn’t even uncomfortable, Harry thought. There hadn’t been much talking, but it hadn’t felt as awkward as he’d imagined it might. 

Snorting slightly, Harry gave a little laugh as he set the mugs on the draining board. Ron was sure to think he’d gone mad. _Having coffee with Malfoy? You’ve lost it!_

Shaking his head again, Harry dried his hands and headed for the bathroom. He wanted a shower before he started his day properly. As he passed the living room window, he could see Malfoy making his way through his own grounds, and he paused to watch, a small frown settling itself on his brow. _What is he doing?_

After a moment, Harry mentally shook himself and continued up to the bathroom. It was really none of his business what Malfoy was doing. He didn’t seem to be doing anyone any harm, so he should be left to it.

***

The days passed without any more visits from Malfoy, though Harry had seen him almost every day from the window. Every day was the same, Malfoy walked along the lane that Harry assumed led to his house and then crossed a stile into a field, where he just walked along the fenceline for as far as Harry could see. Then he turned and came back. Harry was mystified; he couldn’t see any logic to Malfoy’s behaviour. But then, he reminded himself, it was none of his business.

The weather in that first week was glorious. The sun was shining every day, and the temperatures were warm, but nothing too hot, which Harry appreciated. He knew that if he’d still been in London, he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the weather at all as summer in London was always too hot, sticky and smoggy, thanks to all the Muggle traffic around. Here, it was clean smelling air, filled with birdsong and butterflies as well as the odd buzzing from the bees, and even though it was warm, it didn’t feel sticky. Harry had spent almost every day in the garden, tidying it up and enjoying learning about the different types of flowers that were growing there. His particular favourite was the borage planted along the border, with its bright blue-purple flowers. Having used it plenty of times in potions, he hadn’t realised it was quite so beautiful. 

However, as the weekend arrived, everything changed. The bright sun and clear skies gave way to grey clouds that were almost black in places, and the sound of birdsong was replaced with the sound of raindrops hitting every available surface. 

“Well, there goes our al-fresco dinner,” Harry muttered as he stared out of the window that afternoon. The rain had fallen steadily since he got up and was showing no signs of easing as the hours passed. There had been the odd rumble of thunder, which he thought was just typical when he had plans. Ron and Hermione were due to arrive any minute, and the barbecue he’d been planning was obviously not going to be possible. 

Sighing, Harry went into the kitchen to see if he could find the menu that he’d got with his Chinese takeaway a couple of nights ago. It had been good food, and he knew that both Ron and Hermione liked Chinese. Plus aside from the bits he’d bought for the barbecue, he had next to no food in the house. He hadn’t yet done any proper shopping; he’d just used up what had been in his fridge freezer at the flat. Shopping was tomorrow’s job. 

“Aha!” he exclaimed as the menu appeared in the drawer he’d opened. He lifted it out and set it on the table, as a knock came at the door. Hurrying through the house, he flung the door open to find a very soggy Ron and Hermione on the step. “Come in, come in,” he said, stepping aside. 

Hermione stepped inside, quickly followed by Ron. Harry shut the door behind them. 

“Why didn’t you Apparate?” he asked, giving them an amused look. 

“I didn’t know how your house was set up,” Hermione said, peeling off her sodden overcoat and looking around for somewhere to hang it. “I forgot to ask.” 

“It’s fine for Apparition,” Harry said with a laugh. “I’ve put pretty much the same charms on it as were on my flat. So you can dry that off with your wand and then hang it in the cupboard there.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, immediately pulling out her wand to dry her coat. “We’re not having a barbecue then, I take it?” 

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid we’ll have to have a takeaway. I’ve got the food for a barbecue, but I haven’t actually done a proper shop yet. I was hoping the rain would stop so we could just have the barbecue.” 

“Takeaway is fine by me,” Ron said, pointing his wand at his coat too. “What kind?” 

“Well, I only have a menu for the local Chinese,” Harry said. “But I’m sure we’d be able to find a number for somewhere else if you don’t fancy it?” 

“Ooh no, Chinese sounds wonderful,” Hermione said as she put her wand away and hung her coat in the cupboard. “We’ve not had it for ages.” 

“I love Chinese,” Ron said, a dreamy look appearing on his face. “Crispy duck pancakes, spare ribs, noodles…” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he said. “I get the point. I had the Chow Mein the other night, and it was good. Let’s go and order now and then you can tell me how things have been.” 

“Oh, mate, you wouldn’t believe how the exam went,” Ron said, hanging his coat next to Hermione’s and following Harry through the house. “It started off really–” 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking around quickly. 

“There’s someone out there,” Ron said, pointing at the window. 

Harry didn’t need to look to know who it was. “Oh, him,” he said. “He walks there every day. He’s fine.” 

Hermione followed the line of Ron’s pointing finger. “Harry, that _is_ Malfoy!” 

“I know,” Harry said, trying to hold back his sigh. “I had coffee with him my first morning here.” 

“What?!” Ron exclaimed, whipping his head around to stare at Harry. “You had coffee with him?” 

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, shrugging. “He lives down there and came to introduce himself to his new neighbour. Didn’t realise it was me until he was here, and well, it just seemed rude not to offer him coffee.” 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, giggling a little. “You could have just said hello to him.” 

Harry shrugged. “I know,” he said. “But I thought coffee might be better. I was having some anyway. It was fine. We didn’t talk much, and he left as soon as he’d finished his coffee. I haven’t spoken to him since, just… seen him walking. He’s always walking.” 

“Like that?” Ron asked, having turned back to the window with a frown on his face. “He’s not dressed for the weather _at all_. Hasn’t even got an umbrella charm up, I mean, look at him. He’s soaked.” 

Harry’s curiosity got the better of him, and he moved closer to the window so that he could see. He hadn’t expected to see Malfoy wearing a white shirt that was, by now, practically see-through. “Uh…” he stuttered, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. “No… he normally… well, his shirt isn’t normally see-through.” 

Hermione shook her head. “I hope he knows what he’s doing,” she said. “Just because it’s warm doesn’t mean he can’t catch a chill.” 

“Who cares if he catches a chill?” Ron asked, looking at Hermione with a frown. “It’s Malfoy.” 

Harry shook his head, forcing himself to look away. “Come on, or the food will take ages to get here,” he said. 

“Oh, no that’d be no good,” Ron said. “I’m starving!” 

“You’re always starving,” Hermione muttered, prodding him in the shoulder as they followed Harry into the kitchen. 

Crowding around the menu, they each picked out what they wanted. Hermione wrote everything down on a piece of paper that Harry gave her, and added up the prices. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “We brought some wine. Ron go and get it from my coat.” 

“Brilliant,” Harry said grinning. “Let’s make a night of it.”

***

The next morning, Harry awoke with a groan. There were no rays of sun this morning, and the sound of rain seemed ever-present, compounding the headache he had from drinking so much wine. He had enjoyed having Ron and Hermione over, and while it had been nice to hear what had been happening in the Ministry since he left, he didn’t find himself too upset that he hadn’t been a part of it all.

Sitting up slowly, he rubbed at his eyes with one hand while groping for his glasses with the other. He knew he had some hangover cure in the bathroom cupboard if he could make it there without incident. Finally locating the glasses, he shoved them onto his nose and slid carefully out of bed before padding out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. 

Half an hour later, Harry headed down the stairs. He’d taken the hangover cure and had had a shower and felt altogether more human now. His plan now was to have coffee and breakfast before going to do the food shopping. 

Walking through the living room, he glanced out of the window as was a habit by now. Once again, Draco Malfoy was walking and once again, he looked thoroughly unprepared for the rain. The white shirt clung to his skin, allowing Harry to see every muscle as he moved. The sight was mesmerising. 

It was no secret that Harry was attracted to men as well as women. His relationship with Ginny had been common knowledge after the battle but had soon fizzled out as they both came to terms with the after-effects of what had happened during that year. It had taken several months of therapy for Harry even to consider another relationship, and by that time, they were back at Hogwarts to complete their N.E.W.T.s, and it had been the furthest thing from his mind once again. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed people, of course. Everyone had really grown up during the year of the battle, and that fact hadn’t escaped anyone’s attention. It had seemed like everywhere he looked during that year, people had been hooking up—everyone except himself and Malfoy that is. As far as he could tell, they were the only two not to get caught in an alcove. 

The biggest surprise had been Blaise Zabini being caught in Greenhouse Number Three in a very compromising position with Neville. After that, things seemed to calm down a little bit, and everyone got on with studying for their exams. Harry didn’t regret not getting involved with anyone, not really, but he did wish he’d used the time to get to know Malfoy a bit better. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had, whether he’d still find himself blushing as he watched Malfoy walking in the rain with his shirt turning see-through. 

Glancing into the kitchen, he quickly made his mind up. He abandoned his breakfast plans and went to the cupboard to pull on his boots and jacket. Casting an umbrella charm on himself, Harry stepped out of his front door and headed down the garden path. He was going to find out what Malfoy found so fascinating about walking in the rain. 

It didn’t take long before Harry bumped, quite literally, into Draco. 

“Oof,” Harry exclaimed as he stumbled back slightly. “Er, sorry, Malfoy.” 

Draco frowned and rubbed at his arm. “It’s alright,” he muttered. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Well, I’m taking a walk,” Harry said. “What about you?” 

“I’m also taking a walk,” Draco replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get on…” he added, skirting around Harry and taking a couple of steps down the lane. 

“Malfoy, wait!” Harry exclaimed. 

“What?” Draco asked, alarmed, as he turned back around. 

“Er…” Harry faltered. He hadn’t expected Draco to stop. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Potter, I don’t know if it’s escaped your attention, but it’s actually pissing down, so if you don’t have anything to say…” 

“No, sorry,” Harry said, taking a step towards Draco. “Sorry. I just… I see you walking all the time. Why?” 

“I like to take daily exercise,” Draco replied. “I don’t… I haven’t got anything else to do, so I walk.” 

“Don’t you like your house?” Harry asked, trying to ignore the fact that Malfoy’s shirt was still sticking to him. 

“What? Of course I like my house!” Draco replied, looking at Harry as though he’d gone mad. “Why would you think I don’t?” 

“Well, as I said, I see you walking _all the time_ ,” Harry said. “Why don’t you do something in the house?” 

“I prefer being outside,” Draco replied shrugging. “It grounds me. Now, if you don’t mind… I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah,” Harry said vaguely. “See you around.”

He watched as Draco turned again and walked down the lane. He absolutely did not let his gaze travel down Draco’s back to his arse, which was covered in a pair of trousers that were becoming increasingly tight with the rain. 

With a groan, Harry turned in the opposite direction and headed back to his house. He’d made a right hash of that conversation, and now he was starving. He resolved to grab something to eat and then go food shopping as he’d initially planned.

***

Later that afternoon, while making a cup of coffee, Harry found himself gazing out of the window again. Despite it being hours since Harry had bumped into him, Draco was still walking along the lanes.

Harry shook his head slightly. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but he really wanted to know more about Malfoy’s reasons for spending all day walking. He knew he’d made a fool of himself that morning, but he was determined to try again another day. 

Until then, he thought, he’d better occupy himself by doing something productive. He headed into the living room with his mug of coffee and sat down with a cookery book he’d bought at the supermarket. He’d decided that now he had the time, he would teach himself to cook proper food rather than relying on ready meals and takeaway. 

A few hours and several cups of coffee later, Harry stood in the kitchen surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of plastic containers filled with his cooking efforts. Most of them looked like the pictures in the book, and he was pleased with himself. Picking something out for dinner, he put the rest of the containers into the freezer to have another time. 

Glancing out of the window again, Harry realised that the light was beginning to fade. There was just enough left to see Draco making his way home for the evening. Pausing once again, Harry chewed his lip lightly as he watched Draco, still completely soaked through, as he wended his way along the lane. He knew he wouldn’t see the moment that Draco actually reached his house because the hedges were far too tall, and Harry found himself wondering what Draco’s home was actually like. 

He gave a small huff of laughter as he realised what he was doing. That first night, he’d thought it would be awful to have Draco Malfoy as his neighbour. But their weird breakfast date the next morning had made him feel a bit differently. Malfoy had been nothing but pleasant; a world away from the boy Harry remembered from school. The very fact he’d stayed for coffee instead of storming away in a huff spoke volumes about the kind of person he’d grown into, Harry thought. 

His thoughts then turned to the fact that Malfoy had been wandering around in a shirt that was so wet, it was see-through. The last time he remembered seeing Malfoy in such a state was in sixth year, and the moment had been somewhat ruined by the fight they’d been having at the time. It still caused Harry to feel ashamed, even thinking about that time. It had never been his intention to almost kill Malfoy; he’d never even wished him more than a mild injury during Quidditch. 

Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the thoughts of the past and focus on more recent encounters with Malfoy. He had to wonder if Malfoy knew precisely what he was doing, wandering around, dressed in such a way. In fact, he wondered how many other people Malfoy bumped into during his wanderings. Harry couldn’t remember seeing anyone other than Malfoy since moving in, other than when he went to the supermarket. 

When he finally stopped thinking about Malfoy, Harry realised with a start that it was now completely dark and he couldn’t see anything other than the distant lights of the nearest town. Groaning softly, he drew the curtains and went back to the microwave to heat his food. He really needed to stop getting so distracted by Malfoy, he thought.

***

By the time the next weekend arrived, Harry was thoroughly fed up with the rain. It had continued raining steadily, and the rivers nearby were in serious danger of breaking their banks by now. But still, Malfoy had been roaming around, his white shirt clinging to him as a result of the water, causing Harry to have incredibly arousing dreams. He’d found himself wondering what it would be like just to rip the shirt off Malfoy’s back, what it would be like to lick the raindrops off Malfoy’s bare skin… several times he’d woken up and had to take care of himself before being able to function.

Grumbling, he made his way into the kitchen to make himself a large mug of coffee. He wasn’t sure how long he could deal with this for. He wasn’t even sure what his feelings for Malfoy were, all he really knew was that Malfoy looked damn good in a wet shirt. He carefully avoided looking out of the window as he passed it though. He wanted a few moments that _weren’t_ invaded by the image of Malfoy in his see-through shirt. 

Having made his coffee, Harry sat down heavily at the kitchen table. He decided that it was time to have another trip to the supermarket. He was running low on a few essential things. Then, he decided, he’d go for another walk of his own to try and map out the general area. Malfoy was obviously very familiar with it by now, and Harry didn’t like being left behind. 

Finishing his coffee, Harry hastened to get himself ready and then headed to the supermarket. He didn’t want to be out walking too long, considering it was _still_ pouring down. He was thankful that it wasn’t cold with it, being July, because that would have been a whole different story. He would have been forced to confront Malfoy if it was freezing cold _and_ raining, because wanting to walk around in just a flimsy shirt in the middle of winter would surely be a sign of madness. 

A couple of hours later, Harry found himself walking along the lane in the direction of Malfoy’s house. He just wanted to see for himself where his former nemesis was living, just in case he ever wanted to call in. Not that he wanted to call in on Malfoy. Of course not. It was just in case of an emergency. Obviously. 

He rounded a corner and slowed down slightly as a house resembling his own came into view. He took in the outward appearance, noting that although the two houses were made of the same building material, Malfoy’s looked slightly worse for wear. The garden, however, was impeccable. The lawns were mown short, and the hedges were neat. When Harry thought of his own garden, which was starting to look unkempt due to the amount of rain, and he wondered if Malfoy had placed some sort of preservation charm over his.

Approaching the gate, Harry studied his surroundings. He could see what Malfoy had meant about the two houses being ever so slightly different but found that he preferred his own house, which he realised made sense. If he’d had the choice, like Malfoy, he might well have chosen this house, but fate had meant he’d got here second and he was okay with that.

“Can I help you?” 

Harry jumped at the sound of Malfoy’s voice behind him. “Er, just… exploring the area,” he said as he turned around.

“Oh. Very well,” Draco replied, glancing at the house. “Nice, isn’t it?” 

Harry nodded, his eyes drifting briefly from the house to Draco’s chest. “Very nice.” 

“Have you seen the view?” Draco asked. 

“I’ve seen _a_ view,” Harry muttered, before shaking his head. “No, I just got here.” 

“Come on then,” Draco replied, opening the gate and heading down the path, gesturing for Harry to follow. 

Harry blinked slightly and then hurried after Draco. He looked around as they passed through the garden, and noticed that a lot of the plants there were the same as in his. He was too busy looking at the wildflowers to see that they’d reached the front door and he bumped into Draco. “Oops, sorry.” 

“You’re making a habit out of apologising to me, Potter,” Draco said, turning to look at Harry over his shoulder. 

“I know. Sorry,” Harry said, before shaking his head. “Sor– I mean… urgh.”

Draco broke into a grin as he continued to look at Harry. “Sounds like you can’t stop,” he said, his voice mischievous. 

“Stop it,” Harry said, a smile playing on his lips as his cheeks turned pink. “I can’t help it.” 

Draco turned back to the door, still smiling. He pushed it open and led Harry inside. 

“I, er… why are we going inside if you want to show me the view?” Harry asked, even as he followed Draco along the hall. 

“Because the best view is on the other side of the house,” Draco replied without looking back. “And the only way to get there is to come through.” 

“Oh. Fair enough,” Harry said, daring himself to sneak a look as they entered the kitchen. It was nice, he thought. Not as bright as his house, but then, it wouldn’t be Malfoy’s kitchen if it were brightly coloured. He’d never struck Harry as the type to like bright colours.

“How are you finding the area?” Draco asked over his shoulder as he led Harry through the kitchen and down the hall to reach the front door. 

“It’s nice,” Harry said. “Quiet. Which is a good thing, I mean. It’s exactly what I wanted. I have to admit; I didn’t expect to bump into you here though.” 

“No, I rather got that impression that first morning,” Draco replied, glancing at Harry again. “I was equally surprised to see you, don’t worry. I was sure you were going to be a superstar Auror.” 

“I was,” Harry said softly. “Once.”

“I see,” Draco said. “Well, there we are. The view. Breathtaking, isn’t it?” 

Harry stepped outside, grateful that Draco didn’t push the Auror issue, and immediately stopped in his tracks. The view _was_ breathtaking. A lush, green valley spread out in the distance, a hint of a river or lake hidden slightly by the trees. “Wow. I didn’t know this was here.” 

“That’s the beauty of living here,” Draco replied. “This particular view can only be seen from here. It doesn’t look anywhere near as nice further down the lane.” 

“I can see why you prefer this house then,” Harry said, nodding. “Can I ask you something?” 

“You just did,” Draco said. “But go ahead.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile threatening to break across his face. “Why don’t you put up an umbrella charm when you go out? Or wear a coat?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Draco asked with a shrug, stepping further into the garden so the rain could hit him. 

“Where’s the fun in getting soaked to the skin?” Harry countered.

“Have you tried it?” Draco asked, fingers drifting to the buttons on his shirt. 

Harry’s eyes followed the movement of Draco’s hands and his throat suddenly felt dry. “Well, er…” 

“There’s something very… sensual about feeling the rain against your skin, you know,” Draco continued, deftly undoing the first couple of buttons. 

“Oh, really?” Harry said in a hushed voice, eyes still fixed on Draco’s hands. 

“Mmhmm,” Draco replied, undoing another button. “I wear a shirt because, well, it wouldn’t do to walk around shirtless, would it?” 

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” Harry said, licking his lips as he took an almost involuntary step forward.

“But here in my own garden…” Draco murmured, playing with the next button down, but not undoing it.

“No-one can stop you,” Harry said, his voice coming out rather dry and scratchy.

“Exactly,” Draco replied, dropping his hand and fixing Harry with a look. “However, I don’t usually have guests…” 

“Oh!” Harry said, feeling his cheeks flush. “Sorry, I’ll… I’ll go now you’ve shown me the view.” 

He turned to head back inside, unsure what was happening. The rain, which had continued falling, suddenly seemed much wetter. 

“Potter, wait,” Draco said.

“What?” Harry asked, turning around again. 

“Make sure to close the gate behind you,” Draco replied. “It keeps the local children out.” 

Harry blinked. “Right. Will do,” he said. He turned once more and made his way back through the house, muttering to himself as he went. _What was Malfoy playing at?_

***

For the next few days, Harry tried his best to avoid catching sight of Draco after their strange meeting in Draco’s garden. He wasn’t sure what was going on, and he certainly didn’t know what Draco was thinking. What he _was_ sure of was the fact his dreams still seemed to revolve around the enigma that was Malfoy and his daily wanderings.

He concentrated on his own garden, becoming a dab hand with the secateurs as he pruned everything worth pruning. His borders became neat and tidy, while the lawn was nicely mown, but not too short. He worked under an umbrella charm, occasionally muttering about how he wasn’t mad enough to let himself get soaked. 

After he’d pruned everything in sight, Harry went inside to make himself some lunch. As he passed the window, he caught a glimpse of Draco in the middle distance and paused briefly to watch. Catching himself, he shook his head and hurried back into the kitchen. _I need to get my mind off him. This is ridiculous._

He finished making his sandwich and headed into the living room to eat in comfort. As he ate, he flipped through a magazine that was lying on the coffee table, though he found that he couldn’t concentrate on what he was reading as his thoughts kept straying back to Draco and his see-through shirt. 

Finally, he could take no more. _Right. I’ve had enough! I have to do something about this!_ he thought, standing up abruptly. He left his sandwich half-eaten and marched down the hall and out of the door. In his haste, he didn’t think to put on a coat or cast an umbrella charm. He continued down the path and out onto the lane before setting off in the direction he last saw Draco.

As he reached the corner, he realised that he was now almost as soaked as Malfoy usually was, but he found himself unable to care. He was too focused on finding Malfoy. What he would do when he succeeded, he didn’t know. 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to walk far before he caught sight of Draco in an adjacent field. “Malfoy!” 

Draco jumped slightly and turned. His eyes widened as he spotted Harry storming towards him, soaked to the skin. The thin blue t-shirt he was wearing was clinging to him.

“Potter?” 

“I can’t take any more of this.” 

“Any more of what, exactly?” Draco asked, frowning slightly. 

_“This!_ You flirting and walking around like… like that!” Harry exclaimed. 

Draco looked down at himself; his shirt was once again sticking to every inch of his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry’s jaw dropped slightly as he stared at Draco. “You— oh, for—”

Draco gazed back evenly, one eyebrow arched. “You do realise that, right now, you are no better than me? Coming here, looking like… that.”

Harry glanced down and frowned slightly, realising for the first time that he’d left the house without any kind of protection against the rain. 

“In fact, Potter, one would think that _you_ were the one flirting with _me_ ,” Draco continued, moving closer to Harry. 

“I am... absolutely... not,” Harry said, without conviction. He and Draco were standing so close now that he could see the droplets of rain rolling down the pale skin of Draco’s throat, pooling slightly where his collarbone protruded. He could smell Draco’s aftershave, the scent of caramel and apples that were unmistakably him, mixing with the smell of the rain. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Draco replied, his voice no louder than a whisper as he leaned in closer. 

For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sound that could be heard aside from the raindrops was the sound of their breathing which sounded louder in their own heads as they stared at each other. 

And then Harry was moving. His hands seized Draco’s soaking shirt and pulled him even closer, their lips crashing together in a messy, slippery kiss. He could feel one of Draco’s hands in his hair, the other clutching his t-shirt at the small of his back. He could taste the rain on Draco’s lips, along with a faint hint of morning coffee. 

Harry knew that the ferocity of the kiss was enough to bruise Draco’s lips, but found that he didn’t much care. His hands shifted their grip from Draco’s shirt to the buttons, fumbling to undo them but slipping due to the rain. Growling slightly into the kiss, Harry lifted his hands to the open neck of the shirt and pulled. He smiled against Draco’s lips as he felt the buttons give way and the shirt rip open. 

“Neanderthal,” Draco mumbled, breaking the kiss long enough to do so. “I would have removed it had you asked.” 

“My way was more fun,” Harry replied, pressing kisses to the corner of Draco’s mouth before working his way down his jawline to his throat, where he licked a stripe downwards to Draco’s collarbone. 

Draco tipped his head back slightly, hands still clutching at Harry’s shirt. “Fair enough,” he gasped as Harry began to suck lightly on the sensitive skin on his throat. “This, right now, makes all the weeks of getting soaked to the skin worth it.”

Harry ran both hands up Draco’s torso, sliding the sodden material of his shirt off his shoulders until it fell to the floor in a soggy heap. He smiled against Draco’s collarbone, then kissed his way back up to capture Draco’s lips once more. He _knew_ there’d been something deliberate about Draco’s wanderings. 

Draco moaned as he returned the kiss, determined to gain the upper hand. He slipped one hand under the hem of Harry’s shirt, sliding it up and over his stomach, delighting in the shudder it brought from Harry. He tweaked Harry’s nipple gently and was rewarded with an immediate thrust of hips. 

Harry gasped into the kiss as Draco tweaked his nipple, his hips thrusting forwards of their own accord. He let go of Draco briefly to pull his own shirt over his head, dropping it on the ground beside Draco’s. He pulled Draco close again, pushing their hips together forcefully as he did so. 

Draco gasped this time, before dipping his head to kiss Harry’s neck. “Do you really want to do this here?” he murmured a moment later, nibbling Harry’s earlobe. “I have a very comfortable bed.” 

Harry groaned softly. “I thought you liked the rain?” 

“Oh, I do,” Draco replied. “I just thought you might prefer something a bit more conventional.” 

Harry gave a huff of laughter. “Are you trying to say I’m boring?” 

Draco grinned against Harry’s skin. “If you’d asked me that half an hour ago I’d probably have said yes,” he replied. “But you’ve surprised me.” 

“Good,” Harry replied, grinding his hips slowly against Draco’s. “Mission accomplished then.” 

Draco gasped, his mouth on Harry’s neck. 

Harry gave an involuntary shudder, hands gripping Draco’s waist tightly. “Wh– whose field is this?” he murmured, his breath hitching slightly. 

“No idea,” Draco replied, his breath warm on Harry’s skin. “Never seen anyone come up here.” 

“Good,” Harry said with a growl as he manoeuvred them backwards until they stumbled and fell. Luckily, with the amount of rain that had fallen, the ground was soft, and they landed in the mud with a splat. 

They were still for a moment before they both began to laugh. 

“Ah… sorry,” Harry said, resting his forehead against Draco’s shoulder. 

“A bit too keen there, Potter,” Draco replied, his smile evident in his voice. “What say we go back to my place and have a nice, hot shower?” 

“You really do love water, don’t you?” Harry said, pulling away slightly to look at Draco with a grin. 

Draco rolled his eyes before pulling Harry back down for another kiss. “Are you coming or not?” 

“Of course I am,” Harry answered, smiling against Draco’s lips. “Let’s go.” 

Slipping and sliding in the mud, they managed to get to their feet and, collecting their shirts, headed to Draco’s house, stopping several times on the way to kiss one another. The rain continued to fall, leaving streaks in the mud that coated their skin and by the time they reached the house, they were almost clean again. 

As they stumbled through the door and up the stairs, Harry’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest with how happy he felt. _Moving here was definitely the right decision,_ he thought as Draco pulled him in for another kiss as they entered the bathroom. _I should have done it ages ago._


End file.
